


liar liar

by gaypasta



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adultery, Angst, Heavy Angst, M/M, no yeah this is not a happy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 16:04:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20838263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaypasta/pseuds/gaypasta
Summary: “You always look good, Richie. Stop trying so hard.”“Stop lying - you said I looked like a dumpster rat yesterday.”-Richie tells Eddie to stop lying a lot, as the years go on it becomes less of a novelty and more of an omen.





	liar liar

**Author's Note:**

> based off a prompt on tumblr

“Are you ok, short-stop?” Richie offered to take a grocery back out of Eddie’s hands. Richie had three in each - Eddie had two in each and a box of laundry detergent under his arm. No need for a second trip - especially not up six flights of stairs to their shitty apartment they pushed pennies together to afford for College.

“I’ve got it,” Eddie said as he dropped the detergent down a flight of stairs, “Shit.” 

Richie took the two bags from Eddie’s left hand, “Don’t lie to me, now the stairwell smells of fucking  _ lemongrass. _ ” 

“You picked the scent, dumbass.” Eddie went back down the stairs to lift the box. Only a little had spilled out. Richie waited for him to catch up.

“It was the cheapest - maybe if you didn’t insist on buying your  _ french cheeses _ then we could buy detergent that didn’t make me smell like an old lady.” 

“Shut up, I don’t see you complaining when you’re drunk on Bud Light and stand at the refrigerator at three-am eating half a block of it.”

“Better than eating your shitty leftover cooking.”

“Hey!” 

* * *

“How does this look?” Richie spun around, sticking his ass out and pulling faces like a posing teenager. This was the third outfit Richie had tried on and Eddie’s headache was already pulling at his face. 

“Richie - it looks  _ fine. _ They all look  _ fine. _ You’re trying on different shades of blue shirts with the same pair of pants and the same jacket - you’re being dramatic.” 

Richie turned around and looked in the mirror and examined himself. Eddie rubbed his face in his hands. The store was closing soon and he could  _ feel _ the store workers glaring at them to buy their shit and move on.

  
“Maybe I need new glasses…” 

  
“Oh my God.” 

Richie threw a shirt at him - a slightly different hue of blue, “Hey! I need to look good, alright - this is my first gig.” 

Eddie folded the shirt and said without thinking, “You always look good, Richie. Stop trying so hard.” 

Richie skipped a beat and settled on the outfit, “Stop lying - you said I looked like a dumpster rat yesterday.”

“You had the same shirt on three days in a row. It was mildewing under the armpits.” 

“And yet you still sucked my dick yesterday.” 

  
Eddie made a disgusted face and left, “I’m driving home without you.” 

Richie laughed and bought the clothes. He didn’t laugh so much when he walked to the parking lot to look for Eddie’s second-hand beat-up Toyota. 

* * *

Richie shook the orange bottle of pills from his languid stance at their bedroom door frame. A proper house, now. The days of their college apartment some five years in the past. The rattling caught Eddie’ ears and he looked up from the clothes he was folding - a pair of Richie’s ‘ _ showbiz pants’ _ as he calls them. Eddie stilled.

“Eddie, what are these?” More rattling. Medicinal bullets, Eddie thinks.

“They’re nothing. Vitamins.” Eddie went back to folding. Now one of Richie’s plaid shirts. 

“Doesn’t say they’re Vitamins on the label…” Richie hummed, sounding relaxed, “Says they’re something called phenaglo… fee-nah-gluh-.... Fill-na-glow- whatever it says.”

“Why are you looking through the medicine cabinet?” Eddie asks, knowing full well he had hidden them behind a box of disinfectant wipes - something Richie wouldn’t touch. 

Richie dodged the question, “Says  _ Experimental Treatment.” _

“It’s nothing - I don’t know why you’re being like this.” Eddie finished folding Richie’s shirt and started on another - one of his  _ ‘showbiz shirts’ _ \- a nice shade of orange with a pattern of pineapples small enough not to be obnoxious. Eddie bought it for him a couple of months ago.

“If it’s nothing, why you bein’ so defensive?” An even tone, as though this was a conversation about something as mundane as asking Eddie what take-out he wants for dinner.

“I’m not being  _ defensive. _ ”

“Eddie. We were at your Mother’s funeral last month, you had a fucking breakdown and suddenly you’re taking what- some experimental medicine?” 

The shirt creased in Eddie’s fist, “I didn’t have a breakdown - I was burying my  _ fucking Mother _ .”

“Poor wording. You know you’re not sick, right Eds? There’s nothing wrong with you. Your Mom-” 

“Whatever you’re gonna say next I’d suggest you’d think carefully about it,” Eddie seethed. 

  
Richie did. 

“Just tell me what they’re for. Please? Just don’t lie to me about shit like this - about anything.” 

Eddie considered the softness in Richie’s voice and smoothed out the wrinkles of his shirt, “I’m allowed secrets, Richie.”

“Not about your health.  _ Sickness and in Health, _ remember?” Richie chanced a smile and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“We’re not married, dickwad.” 

“Eddie… I have something to ask you-” Eddie threw his stupid ‘ _ showbiz shirt’ _ at him.

* * *

“I can’t believe they finally tied the knot,” Richie said, raising a glass to Mr. and Mrs.Hanscom from across the reception, “They’ve been dating  _ forever. _ ” 

“Ten years isn’t that long,” Eddie takes a drink of his gin and tonic.

Richie gives him a strange look that makes his stomach knot.

“How long have we been dating?” 

Eddie stared at him, not believing the sincerity of the question, “You don’t know?”

“Forgot.”

“No you didn’t - I know you didn’t.”

  
“After my sixteenth birthday?” Richie guessed.

“The day after your  _ fifteenth. _ ” Eddie corrected.    
  


“Fifteen years.” 

“Fourteen and a half. I’m going to go mingle.” Eddie left and Richie fingered the empty space on his ring finger.

Eddie hadn’t realised that he hadn’t seen Richie for the remainder of the night until Richie clapped a strong arm on his shoulder, “Hey, our Taxi’s here - we gotta go.” 

Eddie - slightly less than sober with slightly more than a few empty glasses at his table smiled at him, “Oh! I haven’t seen you aaaaaall night… wow. Sorry - I was talking to Simon,” A man opposite Eddie, short-cropped blonde hair with ruddy, childish cheeks and a disingenuine smile, “He works with Ben - he draws buildings - isn’t that cool, Richie?” Eddie had yet to look Richie in the eyes.

  
“Yeah, buddy - super cool. Let’s get you home.” Richie pulled at Eddie and Eddie pushed at him, “Hey - c’mon Eds.”

“We were in the  _ middle _ of a conversation.” 

“Well… Simon here won’t mind if I take your stroppy little ass home, will he?” Richie looked pointedly,  _ warningly _ at the man. Richie wasn’t jealous by nature - but this guy looked seedy all over.

“No, not at all.” He smiled at Eddie and Eddie smiled back. A type of smile Richie hadn’t seen in so long he’d forgotten that it had existed at all, “Do call me? I’d like to hear more about your views on the  _ Donaghmore Disaster. _ ”

“The what-now?” 

Eddie looked at Richie a little irritated, “It’s a History thing - that show I record on the Discovery Channel that  _ you _ always delete to make room for your dumb fuckin’ Seth Rogen movies.” 

“Oh. Okay - it’s time to go.” 

On the drive home, after an immeasurable silence, Richie looked over at Eddie - who was staring out the window with his head in his hand.

“You  _ like  _ Seth Rogen movies.” 

Eddie didn’t so much as move a muscle, “No I don’t. I think they’re shit.” 

“We watch them together.” 

“Yeah.” 

“You said you  _ liked _ them.” 

  
“I lied.” 

“Why?” 

Eddie didn’t respond. He shrugged and continued looking out the window.

* * *

A month since the wedding. A month and a day since they had last had sex. 

Of course, they weren’t kids anymore - long past their early twenties and nightly sex - sometimes even once a week was exhausting enough - but a  _ month? _ Never this long. 

“Hey, Eds?” 

Eddie looked at him - already exasperated, trying to look through reports he was doing for work, “What, Richie?” 

Richie hid behind his coffee, “It’s been a month since we last had sex.”

“Okay?” 

“Why is that?” He took a sip. It was cold.

“We’ve been busy.”

“We have?”

“Yes.” Eddie said sternly, eyebrows pursing together in annoyance. They did that more and more recently. 

A pregnant pause.

Richie’s coffee was still cold. He drank it anyway.

“Don’t lie to me... are you sleeping with someone else?” He asked, jokingly of course, “Is it because I’ve gotten fat?” 

Richie waited for a  _ ‘yeah, they’re better than you’ _ or a  _ ‘you’ve always been fat, Richie’ _ but it never came. What came instead was Eddie slamming his fist down on the kitchen table. 

  
“How could you say that?! How the fuck could you say that to me? Just because I’m too busy at work to act as your  _ fucking  _ cum-dumpster doesn’t mean I’m  _ cheating  _ on you.” 

  
“Eds - I was kidding-”

“I’m going out,” Eddie stood up, he didn’t even so much as push his chair back in before he was grabbing his keys, Richie suspected that if he hadn’t been wearing shoes - he wouldn’t have stopped to put any on. 

  
“What - where are you going? It’s almost midnight, I’m sorry, alright-”

  
“Out.” 

Eddie was gone. Coat hanging on the back of the kitchen chair. Wallet sitting beside the fruit bowl. He shouted a biting “Don’t wait up.”

He came home at 7am only to change and go to work. He didn’t shower when he came in and his hair was damp. 

He didn’t give Richie a kiss goodbye.

* * *

They were watching TV. Some high-rated Netflix show that Eddie wanted to watch. It didn’t appeal much to Richie but he sat in his PJ’s with a bowl of Lucky Charms and watched it nonetheless. 

Eddie’s phone rang from the chasm between the two. A brief flash of  _ Simon  _ before Eddie silenced the call and flipped it upside down. 

An innocent question, the man from Ben and Beverly’s wedding long forgotten, “Who’s Simon?” 

“No one. Work colleague,” Eddie folded his arms.

“At this time of night? It must be important - you should answer it,” A spoonful of cereal.

“It’s nothing.” 

“Ah, new kid? Are you training another new kid?” Richie’s mind going back to this time last year - all the fresh-faced College kids not knowing their ass from their elbow and blowing up Eddie’s phone like he was their Mommy.

Eddie made a vague noise of agreement.

“Don’t lie - he’s younger and hotter than me, isn’t he?” Another mouth full of cereal - he didn’t swallow it before continuing, “How am I meant to compete with the youth?” 

Eddie looked at him and crinkled his noise at Richie speaking with his mouth open. He took his phone from the sofa and left the living room without a word. 

Richie finished his cereal and the show turned out to be quite good, actually. 

He could hear Eddie laughing on the phone from the room next over. 

* * *

“That’s the fourth Friday in a row you’ve stayed late,” Richie said as Eddie came through the door, hair ruffled and unkempt as it usually did after a stressful day at work. Richie moved his book so he could see his watch. The clock read ten, “This is the latest you’ve been.” 

The smile and cheerful disposition plummeted off Eddie’s face, “What are you, my keeper?” 

“No - I’m your husband.”

“You know I hate it when you say that shit.” 

Richie paused, “What  _ shit?  _ That I’m your husband? I’ve always said that. We’ve been dating sixteen years - people always say we’re ‘practically a married couple’.”

Eddie mumbled something. Richie told him to speak up.

“Fifteen and half. Not sixteen.”

“Oh. Alright.” 

Eddie shrugged off his jacked and Richie noticed his hair was damp.

“Why do you hate it when I say it?” Richie closed the book he had been reading.

“I don’t know - I just do,” Eddie wasn’t invested much in the conversation.

“Do you hate the thought of it that much?” Richie asked. He had said it many times before, in jest. There was little laughter in his voice now.

Eddie didn’t answer. He pretended he didn’t hear and walked to their bedroom. Richie knew he heard. He knew all too well that he had heard him. 

When Richie followed him into the bedroom, Eddie slipped on a sleep shirt and Richie stilled. A plain black v-neck - too big to be Eddie’s and too small to be Richie’s - not that either of them wore v-necks anyway. 

  
“It’s been four months since we’ve had sex, you know that?” 

“I didn’t realise you were keeping track.” 

“Whose shirt is that.” 

“I don’t know - found it in the airing cupboard last week.” 

It all came so easy, didn’t it? Effortlessly lying. It didn’t make Richie angry, or particularly sad, either. It just made him hurt. It made him sore all over.

“I know you’ve been cheating on me, you know that, right?” 

A heavy, painful pause. 

Eddie got under the covers.

“I hate it when you say shit like that, Richie.” 

“Eddie.” Richie pressed.

“Go to sleep.” 

“ _ Eddie.”  _

Richie’s eyes - without his consent - had filled with water. _This is it_. Richie knew. This is sixteen - no - fifteen and a half years being detonated with Richie pressing the button. Richie waited, waited for Eddie to tell him, confess, end it, pack his shit and go. But it never came. It never would come, probably. Richie was like a piece of furniture to Eddie - stangent in his life but not quite old and broken to throw away just yet. Eddie was his sight and sound and now Richie was willingly going blind and deaf.

“Please don’t lie to me again,” His voice was thick and hard to hear. Eddie heard it. Eddie didn’t respond, “Eddie, just say it. Just say you’re gonna go.  _ Please. _ ” 

“I’m not leaving you, Richie. How could I do that?” 

Richie choked on a sob. 

“Simon? That’s who it is? That guy from the fucking wedding?” It felt so long ago.

Eddie looked sad, but not guilty, “Yeah.” 

“Why?” 

“We were each other’s first boyfriend. We were  _ fifteen. _ You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about what you missed.”

Richie wished Eddie would look at him, he missed Eddie’s eyes, “No.”

“You’re lying.”

Richie let out a cry at that, this is the third time Richie has cried infront of Eddie. Once when they were twenty-three and Richie got fired from a comedy gig that he had bet his career on. Twice when he was twenty-seven when his Father had passed away from liver cancer, and now when Eddie accused him of lying.

“I could never lie to you, Eds.”   
  
Eddie thought this over, thinking it was a ridiculous notion. It was true, the longer he thought. Richie had never lied to him. Not once.

Eddie texted Bill to come over ASAP.

  
  
Eddie gave Richie a kiss for the first time in two weeks and three days.

Eddie lied for the last time and said, “I love you, I’m sorry.” 

Richie didn’t lie when he said, “I love you, I’m sorry, too.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> how's this for a fix-it fic? [throws bleach in your eyes] WAH!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [do you still love me?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20867654) by [DorianGayy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DorianGayy/pseuds/DorianGayy)


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